


racing (making me bleed)

by liamthebastard



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Parse Bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-25
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-05-13 18:27:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14754011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liamthebastard/pseuds/liamthebastard
Summary: Sometimes, they’d slip back into old habits. Kent would wake up from another nightmare about the bathroom in a Montreal hotel room, and without his conscious permission, he’d grab a pen and scribble something on his arm. Moments later, he’d feel the sting of a reply. But come morning, they’d both show up for practice with freshly scrubbed skin. And even in those late-night moments of weakness, they never mentioned who they were to each other. It could almost be a conversation with anyone, with a random stranger, but Kentknewit couldn’t really be with anyone.





	1. Secret/Hidden Soulmates

They don’t talk about it. They’ve been playing on the same team for years, had run into each other in Juniors before that, and they’d never had a hard time talking about anything else.

  
In fact, Swoops would say, it was getting Kent to shut up that was the trick. And Kent knew it was true. He’d just throw words out, rambling on and on and hoping that somewhere in there his meaning would come across. But this one thing, this one, _life-altering_ thing, was off limits. It was an unspoken rule, from the moment Jeff got traded to the Aces, that they would put a stop to whatever had been building between them for years.

  
Sometimes, they’d slip back into old habits. Kent would wake up from another nightmare about the bathroom in a Montreal hotel room, and without his conscious permission, he’d grab a pen and scribble something on his arm. Moments later, he’d feel the sting of a reply. But come morning, they’d both show up for practice with freshly scrubbed skin. And even in those late-night moments of weakness, they never mentioned who they were to each other. It could almost be a conversation with anyone, with a random stranger, but Kent _knew_ it couldn’t really be with anyone.

  
You only got one soulmate. Kent was just unlucky enough to never really _get_ his.

*

They kept it secret. As a teen, it had been popular to show your soulbond off, like it was the newest gadget your parents bought you. Kent had always been a little more cautious, knowing from an early age exactly where his soulmate would lead. By sixteen, he’d already been half in love with Swoops, the mystery guy who scribbled song lyrics and random reminders on his palms, and he’d known their bond wasn’t platonic.

  
So he’d played his cards close to his vest, especially once he’d hit the draft. Thankfully, hockey players could be a surprisingly private bunch, and discussions of soulmates were generally kept between the veteran players who’d known each other for years, rookies had bigger things to worry about.

  
But then his place on the team was cemented, he was a leader, and so it seemed a little odd that he never talked about his soulmate. Soon enough, teammates stopped asking, and it became just another quirk.

*

It actually took Kent an embarrassingly long time to realize Jeff was his soulmate. Their bond had its limits. Nothing personal, no specific information like names or locations. Kent had managed to convey, as a teenager, that he was in Canada, and doing something that meant he couldn’t be covered in ink constantly, but beyond that, any information about their lives that could lead to them finding each other just… didn’t go through. Alicia had told Kent once it was so soulmates didn’t find each other before they were ready. Once they met, Alicia told him, they’d be able to communicate anything. Kent had thought that was bullshit, but wisely kept the thought to himself.

  
Once Jeff joined the team, Kent had felt more settled, but he’d put it down to how well the Aces were doing in the preseason. He hadn’t even considered it was because his soulmate was with him, not until he scribbled a reminder to schedule extra practice with one of the rookies and saw Jeff check his hand.  
Their eyes met across the locker room, and Kent saw his own panic mirrored in Jeff’s eyes. Kent was standing there, pen in hand, clearly having just written a note, and there was Jeff, with that same note on his own palm.

  
Jeff’s hand formed a fist, and Kent tried to look as calm and collected as possible as he put the pen back in his bag.

  
“Swoops, you wanna grab dinner?” he called over the locker room racket. They ate together all the time, Kent reminded himself. It wasn’t weird, the team even teased them about being joined at the hip. Jeff just nodded, and turned around to finish packing up his stuff. Once they were both done, they left the locker room and Kent tried to keep his walking speed normal.

  
They didn’t speak until they were both secure in Kent’s car.

  
“It’s you,” Jeff said quietly. His voice was full of wonder, full of joy and fear and all the things in between, and it was so raw and real that it hit Kent like a blow to the stomach.

  
“It’s you,” Kent echoed, and even to Kent it sounded like a death sentence.

*

They drove to dinner, ate and talked like normal, and that was where it really started. If Kent could do it over, redo that whole night, he’d take Jeff back to his apartment, and they’d _talk_ , really talk, about how they wanted to handle things and what this meant for them. But instead, he’d driven them to a Thai place nearby, and by the time they got a table, Jeff had perked up and started acting like nothing had ever happened, and Kent… well, Kent couldn’t stand to see his soulmate sad, so he’d played along.

  
Maybe if they’d talked about it more, Kent could’ve been ready.

  
Maybe it they’d talked _at all_ , Kent would’ve been prepared.

  
And maybe that was a lie, because nothing could’ve made it okay when Jeff sent him a text at three o’clock in the afternoon on an offseason Sunday with three simple words.  
_I’ve met someone._


	2. Breaking a Bond

Soulmate bonds were finicky things. They were meant to match couples perfectly, if you believed the movies and fairytales. It was supposed to be a perfect bond between two people.  
Bob had explained to Kent and Jack both, though, when they were teens, that it wasn’t exactly all the world built it up to be. 

“Relationships are hard work, boys,” he’d said. “Any relationship, soulbound or not, can be good. Bonds are just the universe giving you nudge. Sometimes, they don’t work out, and that’s okay. Sometimes, you meet someone who isn’t your soulmate, and it ends up working. That’s okay too.”

Kent hadn’t really believed him, because look at his parents. His mom’s soulmate had died when they were children, one of those tragic freak accidents you read about on Facebook and try not to think about too much. So she’d married his dad, who was one of the rare people who just didn’t care about soulmates. He knew who his was, a girl he’d gone to college with, but he’d said their goals just didn’t line up. 

It didn’t stop his mom from accusing him of cheating every time he so much as picked up the phone when his soulmate called. It didn’t stop the screaming matches, or the dishes thrown against the wall, or the inevitable ultimatum. Break the bond, or break their marriage. 

His dad had chosen to break the bond.

Their marriage still broke.

*

Breaking a bond wasn’t an exact science. Nobody was sure how it worked, exactly, but the general consensus was that you had to decide, with all your heart and belief, that you wanted it broken. And then it would snap, like a rubber band stretched too far. A few people who had done it reported a feeling of loss, a pain so deep it seemed like it would never heal. Some people claimed it felt like freedom, like the cutting of everything that held you down. 

Doing it together was proper thing to do, talking about it beforehand, and break it at the same moment. And then, no contact, for fear that the severed ends of the bond would reunite. But some people who broke their bonds did so without telling their partners, waiting until the bank accounts were cleared out and they were in another state before forcing the bond apart with their own will. 

Kent wasn’t sure which was worse.

*

The text was still open on his phone, and for a second he worried about his read receipts. But let Jeff know that he’d seen it, let Jeff understand that he’d read it and sat there staring at the message for forty-five minutes in shock. Let Jeff know that he understood how little Kent meant to him. 

With shaking hands, he finally typed out his response. 

_Come over._

*

Jeff arrived with little fanfare for how much Kent had built it up in his mind. There wasn’t a sudden rainstorm, or the wind swelling, or anything really except the sound of his front door opening and closing. He watched as Jeff came into the living room in socked feet, and sat cautiously, not next to Kent on the couch in his unofficial spot, but in the godawful recliner across from it, the one that liked to spring open and shut at random. 

“So,” Jeff said, once Kent had made it clear he wasn’t speaking first. “You got my text.”

Kent nodded. He was afraid that if he spoke, nothing would come out. He was afraid that if he spoke, everything would come out.

“Then you know. Kent, I- I don’t know what to say. What do you want me to say?” Jeff asked. He sounded resigned, broken, and Kent’s chest _ached_ with it.

He didn’t know when he started loving this man, but sitting across from him, he knew it wasn’t going to stop. 

“Do you love them?” Kent finally asked. His voice sounded hoarse, like he’d gargled barbed wire before speaking. It felt like he had. 

Jeff sighed. “I don’t know. It’s early for that. I just… I didn’t feel right pursuing it until we’d talked.”

Kent knew what he had to do.

He nodded gamely, swallowing down his pain in the way he was so practiced. His expression shifted into his pregame face, firm lines and a stern glint in his eyes. “Then we need to break the bond.”  
If Jeff was surprised by Kent’s acknowledgement, he didn’t show it. Part of him seemed to retreat away though, and it killed Kent. “If that’s what you want,” Jeff said tentatively. 

Kent scowled. “Well, it’s not doing either of us any good. And I don’t really like the idea of being bound to you while you find someone else. It isn’t fair to them or me,” he said. His voice dripped with venom, and Jeff flinched. For a moment, Kent wanted to bring up moving. That he would get Jeff traded so it wouldn’t reconnect. But that wouldn’t work, because then Jeff would have to leave this _someone_ , and that wasn’t a fair thing to ask of him. 

“We can’t hang out anymore after. It’ll be hard enough being on the same team, but we can’t-” Kent’s voice broke a little. He took a breath, and kept going. “We can’t be friends like we were. I don’t want to risk it.” Jeff flinched again, like Kent had hit him, but eventually nodded his agreement. 

They sat in silence for a moment, letting the weight of what they were going to do wash over them. Then Jeff spoke. 

“I’m going to go home. I’ll text you when I get there, we can break it then.” Kent wished Jeff’s voice didn’t sound so sad. 

_This is what you wanted_ , Kent wanted to scream. _You’re the one who’s leaving me_ , he wanted to yell. But he knew that wasn’t true. Neither of them had talked about it, neither of them had even made reference to the promises they’d made each other when they were sixteen and stupid. The promise that they loved each other, that no matter what they’d find each other. That once they did, nothing would keep them apart. 

Kent sometimes thought promises were made to be broken. 

*

_I’m home._

Kent still hadn’t moved from the couch. He couldn’t help replaying every message Jeff had ever written him in his head. They’d been so full of hope as teenagers, fallen in love recklessly, and now, here he was, sitting on his couch alone, trying to remember what the words _good night, I love you_ had looked like written on his wrist just as sleep took him. 

*

They’d planned their first kiss. It sounded silly, but he’d been young and head over heels, and so excited to meet the person who’s handwriting had adorned his body for years. He’d need something to take with him into the draft, so he’d scribbled out how he wanted it to go, and his soulmate had responded. 

It would be sunny, a perfect day. They’d be somewhere private, a backyard or garden somewhere nobody could find them. And Jeff- no, his soulmate, he shouldn’t be thinking of him as Jeff, not when he was about to break whatever they had (but still, he couldn’t see it as anyone _but_ Jeff)- _his soulmate_ would take him gently by the hand, and kiss him. First his cheek. Then his forehead. And then his lips. 

It would’ve been perfect. 

*

Kent gathered that feeling of hope around him, and then burnt it to the ground. He pulled up every moment when Jeff had pulled away, every moment of retreat, each ignored conversation in the light of morning practice, each rebuff, until finally he grabbed for the sinking in his stomach when he’d read Jeff’s text.

_It’s over_ , Kent thought to himself. And he found that little part of his mind that quieted when Jeff was nearby, and he imagined lighting it on fire. Almost immediately, he felt like he was going to be sick. The pain, the loss, all the horrible things he’d feared, seared through his veins. His heart was beating so hard he worried it would break free from his chest. It broke him down, left him shattered in the rubble.

When he came out the other side of it, minutes or hours later, he felt nothing. Not pain, not sadness. Just… nothing. 

And then, for the first time in his life, he felt alone.


	3. Near-Death Experience

Two days after breaking their bond, Kent went out and bought a motorcycle. 

It was something he’d always wanted, but in their teens Jeff had talked him out of it. 

_I’d like you to live long enough to meet me,_ he’d written. Kent had agreed, and promised never to buy one.

But it was time to break old promises. 

*

The motorcycle was nice. Kent loved nothing more than to take it out into the desert and ride until he couldn’t remember his own name. He rode until he and the bike felt like one creature, like the roar of the engine was the same as the roar of the blood in his veins, like the throttle was connected to his pulse. 

It was the offseason, so in a way Kent was lucky. There were very few reasons for him to see Jeff, and those few events that his PR agent dragged him too were busy enough that he and Jeff weren’t tempted to talk more than the standard greetings. 

Even that seemed like too much to Kent, who felt raw every time he looked at Jeff. 

He tried to ignore how heartbroken Jeff looked. Told himself it was wishful thinking.

That was another nice thing about the bike. It gave him space to think, but if he didn’t want to, it took all his focus and then some. 

*

The only slip-up wasn’t even Kent’s fault. He’d just posted a picture on Instagram, of Kit curled up in his helmet, and made a joke in the caption about adding a sidecar just so she could travel with him. Twenty minutes later, there was a banging at the door. 

Kent had opened it without thinking, without even looking to see who it was, and suddenly there was an incensed Jeff Troy standing in his doorway, already halfway through a rant. 

“- on that death machine, do you know how many people die on those every year? And it’s _stupid_ , Kent, god, don’t you get enough adrenaline during the season? I can’t believe you’d fucking do this, after you promised-”

As violent as hockey tended to be, Kent had never been a fighter. He was too small, didn’t have the bulk to really throw gloves. But when it came to yelling, Kent was a natural. So he burst in, pissed off that Jeff would even show up at his door. That he thought he had any kind of right to tell Kent how to live. 

“And you promised a lot of things, Jeff! Things fucking change, and you don’t get to come to _my_ house and tell me what to do!” he shouted back. That brought Jeff up short for a moment, but his anger obviously won out over his shame. 

“That doesn’t mean I want to watch you get yourself killed on that thing, Kent! For God’s sake, just because we broke the bond doesn’t mean I don’t _care_ about you,” Jeff said, his words gentle but his voice still angry. 

In the back of Kent’s mind, he could suddenly feel the remnants of their bond, reaching for the man a few feet in front of him. It wanted to connect, so badly, it wanted that closeness again. His skin started to tingle, craving the feeling of someone else’s ink. 

So Kent did the only thing he could think of. He pushed Jeff out of the doorway, and slammed the door in his face. Before Jeff could react, he flipped the lock and the deadbolt, and retreated deeper into the house. Jeff was still yelling, louder now, but Kent just grabbed his headphones and blasted music until he couldn’t hear the words anymore. 

He clung to the anger and loneliness, to beat back the feeling of connection that had threatened to spark. 

And once Jeff was gone, well and truly gone, Kent shooed Kit out of his helmet and went for a ride. 

*

Riding a motorcycle at night isn’t necessarily dangerous. It may be less safe than driving, but not by much so long as all lights are in order. But getting on a bike angry or upset is one of the worst things you can do. Especially if your name is Kent Parson, and you have a bad habit of reckless behavior when upset. 

But Kent was nothing if not thoughtless, so he jumped on his bike despite the late hour, and made for the highway. He knew he was going to fast as he headed out into the desert, he knew that the sand on the road needed to be watched, he knew that he was being stupid. He just couldn’t seem to make himself stop. Instead, he went faster and faster, pushing his bike to its upper limits. He kept going and going and going. 

There wasn’t a destination in mind except _away_. 

*

Just a few hours earlier, Jeff was sitting at a small restaurant, wondering if he’d made the right choice. Across from him sat Peter, a guy he’d met at the gym a month earlier. They’d flirted a bit while on the treadmills, and then Peter offered to spot for Jeff while he lifted. One thing had led to another, and Peter had invited Jeff out for a drink. 

It had been so nice, so normal, to meet someone and not have all the soulmate pressure on the relationship right out of the gate. They’d talked about their soulmates briefly – Peter’s was on the East Coast somewhere, and the timing was right yet for them to be together, but he encouraged Peter to get out and date a bit – but after that, no mention of the cosmic forces that bound everyone together without even asking. 

Jeff had explained that he’d met his soulmate already, but that the soulmate didn’t seem to want him, and Peter had given him a soft look, one made not of pity but of sympathy. And then he did the best possible thing, which was to change the subject, and Jeff had never been so happy. 

Peter was nice. He was funny, he was smart, and he never threw words like they were weapons. There was never a double-meaning to what he said, he was straightforward and honest about what he wanted out of their relationship – “Nothing life-altering, but something that can leave us both better than it found us,” he’d said on their fourth date – and best of all, he understood that Jeff wasn’t ready to be out just yet, and didn’t seem to mind that most of their dates were either at pre-vetted restaurants that would protect Jeff’s privacy or at one of their homes. 

“Something’s up,” Peter said suddenly, looking Jeff straight in the eye. “What’s going on with you?”

Jeff pushed his hair back with his hand. He’d been trying to keep his moping to a minimum, but clearly he’d failed. “I’m sorry, Peter. Just… My soulmate broke our bond, and I’m still kinda riding that out. I’ll focus more, I’m sorry,” Jeff replied, mentally shaking his head to clear thoughts of Kent from them. 

“Oh. I’m sorry that happened,” Peter said, his voice suddenly much gentler. Jeff shrugged, but Peter quirked an eyebrow at him. “Did he… did they say why?” he inquired.

“It’s my fault,” Jeff admitted. “I told him I’d met someone, and… I guess that made him realize that he really didn’t want me at all. I guess I just assumed that one day he’d, I dunno, wake up and realize I was right there? But instead he wanted to break the bond, so we did.”

Peter sighed. “Jeff, that’s terrible. He shouldn’t have- I mean, I can’t imagine someone knowing you and _not_ wanting to be a part of your life. I’m sorry. He’s an idiot.” 

Part of Jeff wanted to argue, to say that Kent had made the smart, logical choice. Now they were both free to pursue whatever avenue they wanted to. But he couldn’t make the words come out. Instead, he said, “He was my best friend, and I was fine with that, but now he doesn’t even want that. He doesn’t want to risk the bond reconnecting.” His voice got a little thick at the end, but he point-blank refused to cry while on a date. His pride could only take so much. 

Despite his best efforts, Peter noticed his distress and signaled discreetly for the check. While Jeff stared into the middle-distance, trying to calm his shaky breathing, Peter settled the bill and guided him gently from the booth. 

They drove back to Jeff’s apartment together in silence. Peter had left his car there, and pulled alongside it. Before he got out, he seemed to steel himself.

“Jeff,” he said seriously. “I don’t want to add more stress to this situation, but I think you need to take some time to yourself. Process what happened. If after you feel you’re doing better you want to look me up, you can come find me.” 

While it didn’t hold a candle to the pain of a broken bond, it still hurt, and Jeff thought for a moment he couldn’t breathe. But Peter put a hand gently to his face and made Jeff look him in the eye. 

“I meant everything I said, Jeff. Anyone would be lucky to have you, myself included. I really hope you call me,” Peter said. He got out of the car and then climbed into his own.

Jeff didn’t go inside until long after Peter had driven away.

*

So it was understandable, perhaps, that he was as angry as he was when a few weeks later he checked his phone, only to see Kent had clearly done the one thing he’d sworn he’d never do. It seemed to throw their broken bond in Jeff’s face, as if Kent was mocking all that they’d been to each other. He hadn’t even thought about getting in the car, about yelling at Kent, and he didn’t really come out of it until Kent slammed the door in his face. Even then, he kept yelling just to have something to do, until finally the words gave way to tears, and he drove himself back home. 

And so he was curled up on the couch, trying to recapture that brief fleeting moment of connection that had almost been on Kent’s front stoop when suddenly pain hit him so suddenly that a scream ripped out of his throat before he’d even registered the hurt. 

It was worse than when the bond had broken, worse than that feeling of severance. At least then there’d been some small sense of something there, now there was nothing. He tried to reach for where his end of the severed bond was, and came up empty. 

Without his permission, he dialed Kent’s number, but it went straight to voicemail. He tried again. And again. All the while, pain ripped through him until suddenly, it stopped. On the next call, Kent picked up.

*

He’d gotten lucky. That’s what all the doctors kept telling him. He was lucky he’d already slowed down when the coyote had sprinted across the lane. He was lucky he’d wiped out on the sand median, and not on the pavement. He was lucky someone had been driving behind him and seen him. He was lucky he’d worn his helmet and leathers, and that he’d been gearing up for an exit and so was only going about 35 when he crashed.

He was lucky.

But sitting in the ER getting his hands cleaned up and his neck checked for whiplash, he sure didn’t feel lucky. A tiny part of him thought it might’ve been better if he’d just died on impact. That voice didn’t make too many appearances these days, but it was far from silent, so Kent did what he always did. Told it to shut the fuck up, and sat back to let the professionals do their jobs. 

His phone was buzzing constantly, but it wasn’t until about an hour later that he was able to get to it. The next time it buzzed, he saw who was calling. He didn’t want to answer. But the nurse in the room with him told him it was okay, and then he felt _obligated_ to answer. 

“Hey,” he said. His throat felt dry, probably from the dust and sand he’d gotten a mouthful of. He cleared his throat and spoke again. “What’s up, Jeff?”

“Oh thank God you’re okay. Where are you? What happened?” Jeff’s voice was tinny but panicked, and Kent hated how much better he felt after hearing it. 

He fidgeted a little. “Um. Well. I’m at the hospital.” He fully expected that to prompt some kind of response, but instead Jeff went deathly silent. Something about the silence made Kent want to fill it up, so he rambled a little, explaining he’d been out on his bike and wiped out but that he was totally _fine_ just a bit of road rash on his hands and a minor burn on his leg, really it was fine, not to worry at all, he’d been healed up in time for the preseason, and on and on until Jeff cut him off. 

“I’m at the desk, let them know it’s okay to let me back,” Jeff said in a tone that brokered no argument. 

Kent looked to the nurse, who was studiously looking at his chart and not at all listening in. “Could you uh, let the desk know that it’s okay to let someone back to see me?” he said.

The nurse raised an eyebrow, but nodded. “I’ll go get them myself,” she agreed, and left the room. 

“A nurse is coming to get you,” Kent said. 

“Good.” 

The call ended, and Kent sat there feeling like shit until Jeff walked through the door.

“Nothing’s broken, right?” Jeff asked immediately. The nurse shook her head. 

“Shockingly, he’s fine. Must have a guardian angel,” she said, and then politely slipped out, sliding the door shut behind her. 

The moment the door was shut, Jeff was at Kent’s side, and then his arms were wrapped around Kent. Kent hadn’t even realized he was cold until Jeff’s arms circled him, and then he was shaking from how good it felt. Suddenly, he realized the front of his shirt was damp. 

“Jeff, are you – are you crying? I’m fine, it’s fine, it’s all okay,” Kent said, not really sure what to do. Jeff wasn’t one to show his emotions on his sleeves. Kent could count on one hand the number of times he’d seen Jeff express anything other than his usual goofy persona, and none of them included tears. But his eyes didn’t lie, and when Jeff finally raised his head from Kent’s shoulder, arms still locked tight around Kent’s chest, his eyes were red and swollen. 

“I- I was so worried, and the bond, God, it hurt so _much_ , and I thought you had _died_ , and then you said you were in the hospital and I thought it’d be like – like I always told you, that you’d be covered in burns or broken both your legs and I couldn’t-” he broke off, tears thickening his voice and making it impossible to talk. 

Kent pulled him back to his chest, and made some soothing noise. “It’s okay, I’m safe, I’m okay. I promise,” he said over and over, like it could make it true. Finally, Jeff calmed down enough that the nurse, who had obviously been lurking, came back in with discharge paperwork. 

“You might have some muscle tightness, you’ve got a prescription for relaxers if it gets too bad,” she said. “Take it easy for a couple of days, and definitely don’t drive if you take the pills. Ideally,” she added, “you won’t get back on that death trap.”

That made Kent bark a short laugh. “I think I’ve got it out of my system,” he agreed. That made Jeff give a watery smile, and the nurse chuckled a little before she wished them both a good evening and left. 

“So,” Kent said, standing on slightly shaky legs. “Any chance you could give me a lift home?”

Jeff nodded.

*

Once Kent was safely in the car – after repeatedly informing Jeff that he was _fine oh my god I’m not a child don’t buckle my seatbelt for me!_ \- Jeff got behind the wheel and began to drive. Before the quiet could really set in, he spoke. 

“That was my worst nightmare,” Jeff said. Unlike in the hospital, his voice was low and controlled. “I thought that I’d lost you, for good.” His eyes darted over to Kent, and seemed to read something in his body language that he didn’t like. “I mean it. I – I couldn’t live like that, Kent. This is bad enough, not having you, but at least I know you’re okay and safe and maybe even happy. Thinking you were gone? It was Hell.”  
Kent took a deep breath. “Jeff, you have to be careful, we can’t – I can’t break the bond a second time, we need to watch what we do-”

“I’m tired of being careful, Kent! I’m tired of not talking about it, about keeping everything secret from each other like it’ll go away if we ignore it! I don’t want that for me, and I don’t want that for you.” The car had stopped, parked in front of Kent’s house, but neither of them moved to get out. Jeff took a deep breath, like he was getting ready for a jump off the high dive. “I understand that you don’t want me, that you wish we weren’t soulmates. But it’s not like that for me. I want everything with you; whatever you can give me, your friendship, or whatever you want. Just… just don’t make me go through that again. I can’t take it.”  
Some words have power. When spoken in just the right way, or at just the right moment, words have the power to change your entire world. 

Kent felt like his entire world had been pulled out from under him, and then instantly replaced with something better. It was good, wonderful, but dizzying in its suddenness. He tried to breathe, to focus on something other than the racing of his heart. 

“You… you think I don’t want you?” Kent asked quietly. 

Jeff hissed a breath out through his teeth. “When… when we realized… you looked at me like I’d just shot you. Like you couldn’t imagine a worse thing that could’ve happened. And then we never talked about it, until you told me you wanted to break it. What was I supposed to think?”

A spark of something that could’ve been anger flared in Kent’s chest, but he didn’t have the energy to be angry today. Instead, he was just resigned. “And you told me you’d met someone. I didn’t- you never talked about it either. I thought that… maybe it was platonic for you. Or that you didn’t want me. I thought I was doing the right thing for us both.”

There was a thunk as Jeff’s head hit the top of the steering wheel. “God. If one of us had just – If I had just _said_ something…” he trailed off. 

“We can’t change the past, Jeff,” Kent said. It was a hard-learned lesson, but he knew there was nothing he could do to change how they’d both handled things. There wasn’t anything they could do to make up for what had happened. 

“Can we move forward from it?” Jeff finally asked. His voice was so small, so vulnerable, that Kent’s first instinct was to say yes, to give him anything and everything he’d ever ask for. But he hesitated. He didn’t want to promise anything he couldn’t give. 

And the severed bond in the back of his mind was a glaring reminder of all their mistakes. 

“I’d like to try,” Kent said softly. Jeff’s face was suddenly hopeful, his eyes bright again, and Kent had to clarify. “I still don’t know if the bond is a good idea right now. We need to talk, a lot. About… a lot of things.”

“But you want to try,” Jeff said, and he sounded like he was afraid Kent was suddenly going to say no. 

So Kent nodded. “I want to try.”


	4. Matching Tattoos

One Year Later

*

It had been both harder and easier than Kent had expected. Trying, that is. Easier, because it was _Jeff_ , and loving him was as natural to Kent as breathing and hockey. Harder, because deliberately suppressing the bond as they worked on their communication was one of the most challenging things Kent had ever done. 

They’d both agreed to therapy, both as individuals and as a couple. Management hadn’t been exactly _thrilled_ with Kent, between the romantic-soulmate-teammate thing and the motorcycle-accident thing, but they’d begrudgingly agreed to keep them on the same team for the sake of both the players, provided that they ran any potential plans to come out by management. 

At Kent’s insistence, they’d kept their relationship quiet, and Jeff had agreed. Their teammates weren’t bad people on the whole, but a few of them were a little too bigoted for either of them to feel comfortable coming out as individuals, let alone as a couple. 

Therapy had been good for them both. Their communication was doing a lot better these days, and Kent was feeling a lot better as person too. He had actual coping skills now, and plans for what to do when those skills failed. Jeff had said he was doing well in his own sessions, but hadn’t gone more in depth than that. Kent didn’t mind, Jeff was just more private. If it was important, he trusted Jeff would talk to him about it.   
They were doing so well, that it didn’t surprise Kent when, a few weeks into the off-season, Jeff approached him in the living room of Kent’s house with a question. 

“Do you think we’re ready to reconnect the bond?” Jeff asked. 

Kent put down the book he’d been reading – right on top of Kit, much to her annoyance - and thought for a moment. “I can’t say I haven’t been thinking about it,” he eventually said. It was true, the niggling feeling in the back of his head was a near-constant annoyance, something he had to actively push back against to keep it from reaching out to Jeff. “I think I’m ready,” Kent continued after taking stock of himself. “What about you, are you ready?” He tried to keep any kind of pressure out of his voice, even though he was a little bit desperate for Jeff’s answer. If it wasn’t freely given, he didn’t want it. 

Jeff nodded. “I really think I am. And I think we are, too. I think we can do it.”

After that, Kent couldn’t keep his smile in.

*

It was Kent who suggested they make a big deal of it. They planned it out for the upcoming weekend, cleared out their schedules, and made a double appointment at the local tattoo parlor.   
When Kent had suggested that, Jeff had looked at him like he was crazy.

“I’ve been reading, sometimes when people reconnect their bonds it comes back different. If it does, I still want to have something of you on me. And even if it comes back the same as it was, I still want it. Something we can’t scrub away. Something I can hold on to,” Kent explained. 

Jeff had smiled so softly at it, and quickly taken the notebook paper Kent offered. He’d hidden what he’d decided on writing, and told Kent he could see it when they went to the parlor, and he’d change it if Kent didn’t like it. 

Kent was sure he’d adore it. 

When Friday finally rolled around, they met at the Botanical Gardens. With no small amount of begging and bribery, Kent had arranged for it to close for an hour in the evening, ostensibly for maintenance, once most of the tourists had migrated to the casinos or clubs. They had the place to themselves. Even still, they ducked beneath one of the trees, hiding from any potential prying eyes under its emerald canopy.

“You ready?” Jeff asked, taking Kent’s hand in his.

“For anything,” Kent said, and then corrected himself. “For everything.”

They both took a deep breath, and reached for each other through a broken and battered bond. 

*

Soulbonds are finicky things. Shatter them, stretch them, reject them, abuse them, you cannot deny the connection at least exists. Even when destroyed, the remnants remain. What you do with them is up to you. Sometimes, they deserve to be burned down. Other times, you find yourself sifting through the ashes and pulling the thread until you find the other person again.

Soulmates are just potential. What you do with that potential is up to you.

Kent decided, that day, and every day leading up to and following it, to grab that potential with both hands. Jeff decided the same. If it had been any different, if either of them had had any reservations, it wouldn’t have worked. 

But they didn’t, and it did.

*

Color exploded against Kent’s closed eyes, and a sense of warmth and togetherness filled his chest. It felt like every good thing he’d ever experienced all rolled into one large mass and pumped straight into his veins. By the time the sensation subsided, and he opened his eyes again, Jeff was staring at him.

Kent smiled. “It worked,” he pointed out, a little obviously.

“It worked,” Jeff agreed. There was laughter in his voice, not mocking but celebrating. Almost before Kent could process it, Jeff’s hand reached out and cupped his jaw. 

The air got stuck in Kent’s lungs, and for a moment, the whole world held its breath. Then Jeff leaned in, and gently, delicately, kissed Kent’s cheek. And then his forehead. 

And finally his lips. 

Kent melted into Jeff’s arms. There would be time to give as good as he got later, for now, he was just going to enjoy. 

*

The tattoo parlor was one a friend of Jeff’s had recommended. They specialized in tattoos for couples who’s bonds worked like Kent and Jeff’s did. Usually they tattooed one person, then switched and traced over the tattoo on the other person, but slightly to one side. It ended up looking almost like the old 3D movies had if you were the kid who snuck peaks over their glasses. Two images coming together to form one.   
But Kent and Jeff had a slightly different plan in mind. This particular parlor also carried an ink that, for reasons not entirely explainable, _wouldn’t_ mark your soulmate. So Kent had taken a sheet of paper, and carefully, with his best penmanship, traced out a message. Something that both his sixteen-year-old self and his current self could agree on. 

They picked where the tattoos would go. The wrist was the obvious choice, but then again, it was too obvious. So instead, they’d agreed to put it on their ankles. Somewhere they’d see them every day, but easily concealed. After all, it was for them. Not for anyone else. 

Once they reached the parlor, Jeff finally let Kent look at what he’d written, and Kent offered him his own note in return. 

Kent read it, and chuckled. “That’s perfect,” he said. 

Jeff read his own, and laughed. “This one too,” he agreed.

*  
Two hours later, when the cling wrap came off, Kent and Jeff were both sporting handwritten notes, permanently etched onto their ankles.

Jeff’s left ankle read _We’ll try_.

Kent’s right ankle read _Move forward_.

He’d never really been a big fan of matching tattoos, but Kent thought he could learn to live with these.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so kind of a cop-out for matching tattoos, but i liked it so im calling it good. Of course, the fifth square for this was fulfilled under the premise of the fic, the writing-on-skin trope that we're all so fond of.   
> I had a really good time writing this, and while it might not be my best work, I had fun, so that's what counts!

**Author's Note:**

> I thought to myself, yeah I could do five independent pieces to complete my soulmate bingo card - OR I could write one incredibly ridiculous, trope-filled fic to get all five squares at once. 
> 
> Also, I picked this card to try and keep my from writing angst.  
> That worked well, I guess.


End file.
